Compassion
by Jamocha101
Summary: It turns out, the ultimate prank, is the ultimate cure.


**I warn you the beginning of this may seem boring and over-explanatory, but I suggest you read it, or else the story will not make sense. I was planning on writing a multi-chapter, but I thought better of myself. Consider yourselves lucky I didn't, otherwise you would be hanging off a five-thousand foot cliff, from a chapter that doesn't complete the story, and would never get followed up. I am a procrastinator, and proud. Too bad it takes me back on my stories.**

**This was inspired by a commercial promoting an upcoming episode of a Nickelodeon sitcom, and I shall say no more, because to be frank, I dun feel like it. ;-) Like I said, all my stories are inspired by **_**something**_**. I don't just "come up" with them, and because this is my first Animaniacs fanfiction, I'll start out light, and simple. I hope you, my existent, or non-existent readers will enjoy this.**

**Disclaimer: They can ask me in court. **

Nobody can deny the overwhelming powers of boredom is what conquers the best of Yakko, Wakko, and Dot; it's unexplored and almighty ways are cruel, and degrading, for when you are sitting in your abode with inevitably nothing mildly entertaining to occupy yourself with, the fidgety-ness and gibed remarks and movements are the first symptoms of the disquieting mental disease.

It was just going to be another, ordinary day.

The Warner's were immortal children; toons, and rambunctious ones to complete the notion. Boredom for these kids in particular, was the source of all chaos in the world, and all mayhem that would spread through out everything they contaminated with their destructive gloved hands. But with their animated spiritedness, and low tolerance for an extended period of lack of entertainment, they would not stay bored for long. Oh, no. Boredom was not in their mental dictionary, nor was it intended to ever be placed. Therefore, the three gratified siblings mutually agreed on one activity that would satisfy their amusement needs, and as if all prayers of their victim in question had been denied, they set out to pursue it.

It was an interesting suggestion, that had come out among the others in their meeting appropriately entitled, "Things We Can Do, and People We Can Torture, Today", and it dominated all others when they had humorously realized they had not purposefully attempted it, before;

"Let's make Mr. Plotz blow up."

Mind. This was not to say "Insert dynamite in his pants, and wait for the explosion", this suggestion was more of an abridged statement to elaborately say, "Let's do our job, and agitate him until he explodes."

Of course, no child ever enjoyed being yelled at, but symbolically, these toons were not children. They were exactly as labeled; toons. And, no, they did not enjoy being yelled at under certain circumstances; they _revel_ in it, only because they succeeded in torturing person in question to the point his anger so clearly exposes. It was only a matter of accomplishment.

Needless to say, the trio decidedly prodded to their repugnant CEO's office, with the utmost ambitions, and assessed in their minds the potential results of their risked attempt, not revealing or otherwise considering any anxiety for said notions. However, the plan for the mission was amusingly the most difficult factor of all procedures. Because of Plotz's short temper, of course, he was easy on angering, but there was a particular goal set for the endeavor; this would not be an ordinary day of Plotz-fuming; this would be tempering Plotz number one; the biggest blow of all the previous.

Hence, the only reasonable question that enters the mind to find the object of such critique went as follows, "What does Plotz hate the most?" The answer would only be the key use to their evil victimization.

Love.

Mr. Plotz hated love. Heck, he never did love. He would have a date for impression, not for passion. He would make up stories, and tell tall tales of all his past "girlfriends", but all opposed (and that was everyone) knew the arrogant man never had hardly so much as a suitor. And if he could never love a girl, it was blaint to see he would never love the Warner's. Not matter how much etiquette they presented, so matter how much compassion they would reveal, no matter how much money they made him, Plotz would never love them. That was the truth, and Yakko, Wakko, and Dot Warner were just fine with that.

But today, they were going to show him some love. This plan would succeed.

And among all the contemplation, it was a matter of passive time when the three plotting kids arrived at the studio, and surpassed an audience to make it upstairs, in order to perform their evil plans.

And as expected, the hot-headed CEO sat quaintly at his desk, brooding over his papers, and contently surrounded himself with the soothing-ness of the silence, which he did not expect to regret, until he heard a rhythmic knock at the door.

"What?" he demanded, returning his eyes to his work, and scribbled-upon papers, before an audible response had occurred.

"Ahhhh…delivery!" responsively echoed over the door. Consequently, Plotz did not recognize the disguised voice.

With a growl, and not respecting the potential entering presence, he continued to have his eyes glued to his desk. "Come in!"

Unexpectedly, the door swung open, and Yakko Warner contently stood there, an evil smirk embellishing his face.

Plotz found himself speechless, in an unpleasantly surprised shock, but then gathered himself, and relinquished his attentiveness toward the documents on his desk, to amble menacingly torward the door. "Oh, no!" he vociferated. "I am not going to have you ruin my day! Get out, get out, get out, get out!"

But the second he had so much touched Yakko's broad shoulder, the mischievous child strategically toon-zoomed further into the room, leaving his boss in another temporary state of shock, before he returned to reality, and twisted around to find his inward enemy standing on his desk, across the expanse.

"Come here, you little—" he trailed, sprinting toward the object of his frustration, only to be stopped when Yakko held his hand inches away from Plotz's nose, inevitably a gesture of "stop", and shortly, the addressed boss did as mimed, holding his monstrous leaping position, as if sequence had froze.

"At least let me tell you why I'm here," Yakko casually cooed, his hand still abroad.

With a displeasured sigh, Plotz let down his momentary guard, and looked at the toon with an intimidating glare, in correspondence. "Well? Why _are_ you here?"

Conceitedly clearing his throat, and hopping down from the desk, he stood with his hands entwined behind his back, and glanced coolly at Plotz. "Ahhhhh…" he expectedly began. "I just wanted to let you know…that…I… paid off the finances for the corporate dinner next week."

Plotz stood, dumbfounded, pondering the motive one of his distrusted enemies would do such a favor. "Really…" he inquired.

"M-hm," Yakko replied, wearing a neutrally ambitious expression. "You love me now, don't you? Yeah, I think you do. You know you do. Come on, give us a hug," Yakko suddenly chattered, springing out his arms, awaiting requested embrace.

Plotz's somewhat appreciative face suddenly fell. "No!"

"Aw, come on!" Yakko persuasively exhaled, wearing an evil sneer, and stepping menacingly closer to his boss.

"Don't you dare," was Plotz's only response, sensing Yakko's awaiting move.

"You know you want to."

"No, I don't!"

"Yes you do…"

With every remark, Yakko had moved closer, goading Plotz to move farther, until each of said were inches from the door, on the other side of the room.

An unfortunate encounter for Yakko, but Plotz finally saughted his escape, and grabbed the toon from under his arms, impolitely proceeding to toss him out the door, slamming it shut.

"That oughtta' take care of the little brat," he murmured as he self-righteously made his way back to his desk, to sit himself down with a breath of relief that he had forcefully retired his key annoyance. "Now, back to—"

But everything seemed to suddenly go in slow motion, when Yakko had bursted out of Plotz's drawer, and pulled him into a tight, long, warm hug, and toon-zoomed out of the room as soon as he was done, slamming the door shut behind his, showing his wait for explosion.

But Plotz inevitably did not explode; he just stood there, shocked. Unsure of what to say, or do. It was not because he did not expect Yakko do pull him into such an embrace, but he was rather contemplating his industrious thoughts, considering mainly, that no one ad ever _hugged_ him before. Not willingly, anyway. And despite all he had believed, or assumed, it actually felt…_good. _It was almost as if, that minute he had hugged him, Yakko was the son Plotz always blindly wanted, but never had.

He just stood there, behind his desk. Frozen. Had he really like a hug from his burdening employee? Was that really possible?

"That…that actually felt…kind of…good…" he whispered to no one but himself, a small, but unsure smile slowly twitching to make development on his face.

Meanwhile, Yakko had ran out of the room, joined by his two siblings in the hallway, and leaning impatiently up against the door, to hear a boom, or any sound at the least, that would resemble an explosion.

But after sixty seconds of waiting, no satisfaction.

"What?" Yakko finally said, standing up straight, once he had finally given up his dreamful notion. "That's it? No explosion?"

Wakko and Dot followed suit, and relinquished their position from up against the door. There was a short moment of silence, before Wakko replied, "Maybe he really _does_ love us…"

The three exchanged perplexed glances upon the suggestion, but amongst their doubts, they all had chorused a burst of laughter, continuing to guffaw as they exited the building. Mr. Plotz loving them; yeah, right.

But to their lack of acknowledgment, maybe Mr. Plotz didn't actually _hate_ love. Maybe it's what he needed all this time.

**Yeah, so. The end. This unfortunately took a lot of thought; it was had to decide which perspectives would be where, and how to explain everything in sequential order, without being over, or under-explanatory. Not sure if I succeeded. I would love to hear your opinions in reviews. ;-) I did not re-read this (just freely written, I may edit it later), so that might explain choppy, or ill-written parts. Thankyou for reading, and I trust you will give me feedback. Goodnight, everybody. XD**


End file.
